


Lion Tamer

by Daryl_Alenko



Series: Trope Challenge [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A Templar And A Mage Fall In Love, Cullen Is Accidentally a Stalker, M/M, Sweet Cullen Rutherford, Trope Challenge, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, but also an ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28588518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daryl_Alenko/pseuds/Daryl_Alenko
Summary: Skyhold is a big, scary place. Not as scary as the Tower, but pretty close. When a young mage finds himself saved by the Commander of the Inquisition Forces, his poor heart will never be the same.
Relationships: Cullen/OMC, Iron Bull/OMC (One Sided)
Series: Trope Challenge [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086479
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Lion Tamer

**Author's Note:**

> Trope 6 - Strangers to Lovers. This was one of my favorites to write!

* * *

Skyhold is big, intimidating. While the Tower was scary for being insular and secluded, Skyhold is scary for being ... open. So much open space surrounded by a seemingly endless nothing. It can easily do the mind in after being trapped in a tower. 

Poor Banalhan was six years old when his parents died while hunting. His Keeper had been reluctant to allow him to remain in the clan, given the ... misfortune of his ... everything. He was born under the sign of the Dread Wolf to parents that had been forbidden to marry but had done so anyway. The Keeper himself had named him Banalhan .. in the Dalish language, it means The Blight ... the place of nothing. His parents had wept at his naming and spent the next six years trying to teach him to be stronger than those that treated him like a curse. SIX YEARS of torment at the hands of his people, who were supposed to treasure him, build him up and protect him. Six years of being torn down, treated worse than the Shemlen they endlessly despised. 

The Keeper decided to allow him to stay, but he was not treated any better. Far worse, actually. While they had to show some restraint while his parents lived, their deaths freed them from that. So, he became worse than the elves that became slaves in Tevinter. He cleaned, mucked, carried more than the halla ... while being sneered and laughed at, being told that he should run away to the Shemlen world, and generally treated worse than his namesake. 

And then, two days before his elventh year of life .. the Kepper was handed the perfect reason to be rid of him once and for all. While he was cowering from two grown hunters that were berating him for rolling parchment wrong, his magic manifested in the form of a desperate mind blast that threw the two men several feet from him. It was a miracle the Keeper got to him before they could run him through with their knives. It was a small reprieve, since in the next moment, he was knocked unconscious. 

When he woke up, he was in the White Spire in Val Royeaux. A terrified eleven year old, huddled in a corner, sobbing. And what happened?

For the first time since his parents died, he was met with compassion. A Knight-Captain templar had carefully knelt in full armor, and offered him a blanket and a skin of water. Had, in soothing tones apologized for everything he had gone through, and promised to help him get settled in his new home. By the end of the speech, he had been sobbing for a different reason. Knight-Captain Colleen Ciaro had been the kindest, greatest person he had ever known. She had personally seen him settled, watched over him as he was introduced to the younglings in the Tower, and integrated into Circle society. When he had nightmares, she soothed him, when he ran away from lessons, she always tracked him down and gave him a snack before taking him back. 

And when he passed his Harrowing, she was there. Tears in her eyes, relief in her voice. Given the fact that she was to kill him if he failed ... well. He was happy he passed, more for her peace of mind than his own life. 

And when the Circles rebelled .... he had wept for being dragged away. Literally. He had tried to run to her, to hide behind her as he had so many times before, but two older mages had grabbed him by the arms and hauled him away. It was terrible!

Being forced to run for their lives as war erupted, and then facing slavery at the hands of the Venatori .... when the Herald swooped in and saved them, Banalhan had been emotional all over again. Watching the Herald fall, discovering Skyhold and then watching the Herald become the Inquisitor ... it was something straight out of a Bard's tale .. or one of Varric's insane stories. He had assumed life would be better. Sure, they were now facing off against a Darkspawn Magister in the name of the Maker, but they were on even ground with what remained of the Templars. They were all fighting on the same -side-.

So, imagine his surprise when he once more found himself tormented.

* * *

"Oi! You, knife-ear!" The guttural voice rings out from the steps leading up to the castle. Banalhan has been struggling to find his way around Skyhold all day. A chance meeting with Sister Nightingale had seen him trying to locate Madame de Fer. She terrified him! As well as annoyed him. To so arrogantly call herself the leader of the Loyal Mages angers him no end! Lots of those that had been stamped rebel were plenty loyal to the Chantry, himself included! But if you listen to her, if you go by -her- definition, even those forced from their Circle by those that voted for 'freedom' were complicit in the war. She is arrogant! The fact that she could talk about those that had actually been forced to live in a Circle, while getting to enjoy her freedom! She was a Mistress, for Maker's sake. An advisor, free to come and go as she pleased. What did she know about what others had suffered?! 

Once he had found her in her room with a view, while the rest of them were confined to another Tower, he had gotten lost. Again. Once the Lady Ambassador had so kindly told him that he was headed for the War Room, he had practically run from the Castle. Only to find these two ex-Templars on the steps. They were still wearing their scuffed armor, though they had ditched the bucket helmets. They were obviously drunk, fairly swaying on their feet as they glared at him with beady, red-rimmed eyes. It takes a full three seconds for him to feel all of six years old again. Prepared to run and hide from his people when he should've felt safe and protected. The Inquisitor had promised them safety and equality. So why does he suddenly feel like crying??

"Hey! We're talking to you, elf!" As the second sounds off, Banalhan finds himself trembling. He only has two choices. Turn around and run and be seen as beneath these assholes, or try to stand up to them when he cannot resort to magic to save himself. He has seen mages fall to possession for far less! However, there is no way in hell he's going to allow himself to become an Abomination. He owes Knight-Captain Colleen more than that! So, he takes a deep breath and carefully continues to descend the steps. 

"My name is not Elf. Nor is it Knife-ear." He speaks as distinctly as he can, enunciating clearly as he tries to step between them. Not surprising, they aren't prepared to let him pass unharassed. Very surprising, is the fact that they put hands on him. One moment, he's trying to leave the last step, next moment .. they have grabbed him by the shoulders and thrown him to the ground. He takes a face full of mud, gasping in surprise as his head momentarily swims. 

"How dare you talk back to us, elf?? If this were the Circle, we'd have you branded for that mouth of yours!" The first ex-templar is sneering, stumbling toward him. Probably seeing at least three of him sprawled on the ground.

"Unless you used your mouth proper like." The second is too drunk to hide the lewdness of his statement as he tries to walk over as well. He nearly trips over his own feet, managing to kick Banalhan in the hip as he struggles to stay standing. The poor mage fights to his knees, blinking back tears.

"What the hell is going on here!?" There is not a member of the Inquisition that doesn't know Commander Cullen's voice. Either from hearing him shouting orders as he ran the troops through their paces in Haven or hearing him help declare the Herald the Inquisitor. Personally, Banalhan knows him most from hearing him sing. Yes, he had been one voice among many, but when the Commander joined in the chorus in the snow, it had touched a part of the mage. And now, here he is ... a shining beacon of hope with his lion mane pauldron. His hand is settled threateningly on his sword as he moves to stand between the mage and the ex-Templars.

"Nothing, Knight-Captain. We was just havin' a discussion with this here mage." The first ex-templar grunts out, trying to keep his footing as he looks at the Commander. Finally, Banalhan manages to climb to his feet, wobbling momentarily, but managing to stay up. 

"And is there a reason this -discussion- found the two of you looming over a young man that did -nothing- to you but try to pass by?" The two ex-Templars are stupid enough, or just drunk enough, to take offense to the Commander's words. No doubt they were the kind of Templars that horror stories were crafted around. The kind of Templars that scared even Cole! And honestly, what -scares- a Spirit of Compassion!? 

"He was givin' us lip, Knight-Captain! Things that got his kind the brand in Kirkwall, for far less!" The second ex-Templar is now trying to -loom- over the Commander and despite being the harassed party here, Banalhan is feeling a little sorry for the two morons. Everyone, even those that weren't -there-, know better than to mention Kirkwall, let alone allude to the events that happened there. That started all of this mess in the first place! 

"I am -not- a Knight-Captain any more! None of us are Templars .. and you two never should've been!" The Commander is practically trembling with rage, and Banalhan finds that he really just wants to hug him until he calms back down. He already shoulders so much responsibility, he shouldn't have to be here, saving him, on top of it all. "You lot!" He roars the words toward a group of passing soldiers, who unlike the two drunkards, immediately fall into line and stand at attention. "Strip these two of their armor and throw them into a cell." The soldiers snap to work, dragging the two drunkards off. Finally, Banalhan feels as if he can -breathe-. Until the Commander turns his full gaze on him. He wants to shrink away where he had wanted to cling moments ago. "Are you alright?" The sheer, truthful concern in the Commander's voice reminds him of Colleen, and he sniffles subtly, nodding vigorously. Of course, the motion dislodges some of the mud from his face and ears, and the Commander looks utterly stricken. 

"I..yes. Thank you, Commander." The Commander takes a step closer, his glove creaking as his fingers flex. He then lifts the hem of material hanging from his armor, and carefully wipes the mud from the face of the mage. 

"There is no need to thank me. This should be a safe place for all of those in the Inquisition. Men like that ... they are a disgrace to all organizations. They should've been stripped of any rank long ago. You should not have to live in fear." Banalhan wants to laugh. Not -at- the Commander or anything so ungrateful or crass. But at his -words-. The mage has lived in fear his entire life. From his own people, his own -clan-, so he never expected kindness from humans. He feels blessed every time he is shown a grain of acceptance. The two ex-Templars are, sadly, what he has come to expect.

"I do not live in fear .. not with you here, Commander. Thank you." He turns quickly, feeling himself blushing through the rest of the mud as he rushes from the area. With his errand for Sister Nightingale done, he just wants to get back to the Tower and get clean.

* * *

Three weeks, and Banalhan has -almost- managed to forget the Lion of Ferelden running to his rescue from two drunken idiots used to abusing their power. Almost. Well .. if almost can be defined as not at all. Several times he has woken from dreams of remembering what the material felt like across his cheek. The sound of outrage and apology in the Commander's voice. Every time he wakes up from the dreams, he's stuck with a sensory overload, and desperately afraid that he might actually fall to possession! But then he remembers the way Colleen took care of him .. the way the Commander took up for him ... and he promises himself that no matter what happens, he will not allow a demon in. 

So yeah. Three weeks of hell every time he lays down. Which is the only reason he must have somehow missed the fact that a certain someone has been keeping a keen eye on him. 

After their first encounter, the Commander found himself distracted. Because every time he ventured outside of his quarters, he immediately checked to see if the elven mage was being harassed. The fact that he didn't know the first thing about him added to the distraction. It was a full week after the encounter that he found himself going to Vivianne and asking. Not surprising, the self-important, arrogant woman didn't know one mage from the next. She spoke about the entire group as if they were beneath her, and he left the conversation just as upset as he had been when he stepped between the mage and the two drunks. Only, the woman's connections meant that he could not chastise her for her heartless behavior. 

From there, he had been called to a War Council, which turned out to be serendipitous. Because of course, who better to ask about a member of the Inquisition than the Spymaster? After all, it is her job to know everything she possibly can! She should know who he spoke of. It had been an enlightening ... and heartbreaking conversation. She had not known his full story, only that he was Dalish and his own clan had delivered him to the White Spire. If that wasn't bad enough ... when she told him his name ... Banalhan .... she had even translated it for him. The Blight .... the place of nothing. How the hell could parents name their child that!? It had been bad enough when he discovered that the Inquisitor was named Abelas, SORROW ... now to know that this poor mage had been labeled the worst thing known to all of Thedas? The Blight .... it broke his heart. It made him want to lash out. To scream at Vivianne for not having the decency to -care- what happens to other mages unless they serve her purpose. To beat those two drunks for adding to the sorrows of the poor elf who's only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

So, after that week .. he may have gone slightly .. overboard. In that, after the next week, Leliana had gently pulled him aside .. and then not so gently demanded to know -why- he was stalking Banalhan. Stalking!? Apparently, constantly watching the elven mage from the shadows, making sure he knew his whereabouts every waking moment, and following at a distance equaled stalking. Who knew?? Not him, obviously. Because he honestly thought he was just watching over an Inquisition recruit. Watching a renowned bard like Leliana facepalm had been interesting, if not a little scary. She had gently encouraged him to cut it out. Had openly stated that the mage was safe in Skyhold, so leave off with the ... stalking. 

He should have never, under -any- circumstances, listened to her! In fact, any advice she offers in the near future is to be explicitly ignored! Because literally, he took his eyes off the young mage and stumbled across him being rushed to the healer within an hour. How the hell had him ceasing his 'stalking' helped in any way!? The boy was -hurt-, for Maker's sake! 

He .. might have reacted a little like a charging bull, but no one could confirm that. Because Andraste knew what he would make them do if they did. Muck out stalls, run laps in the snow, or listen to Sara nitpick about elves. He can be creative when pissed off! And knowing that the young man was hurt, pissed him off. He had charged into the Tower, glaring down any guard or mage that tried to stop him. 

In the end he hadn't been allowed to see the mage, but had been reassured by the healers that he was okay. He had been helping a few of the Apprentices and one of them had gotten ... offended, and ended up throwing a stray mind blast at the elf. It had sent him reeling into a wall and cut his arm as well as banged his head. 

The apprentice was immediately reprimanded by the Inquisitor and had her staff taken away. Cullen wanted to throw her in a cell, but it wasn't his call. This time. (Without him knowing, this has become a bit of a joke around Skyhold. If you mess with a mage, you'll be sent to The Cell. None of them have made the connection that it's just a -certain- mage.) So, once he knew that the mage was going to be okay, and the offender had been taken care of, he had slunk back to his chambers.

* * *

In the end, Banalhan is made aware of the Commander's attentions from the least likely place; Sara. Though he is not particularly elfy, not as most Dalish are believed to be, she still has a habit of talking down to him. Of going off on him for being an elf, as if her ears aren't just as pointed as his. Honestly, he thinks she would use blood magic to change her race, if the thought had ever occurred to her. She was in the middle of berating him for something elfy, when she had stopped mid rant and asked him the oddest question. 

With ears that pointed, how had he not heard the rumors? That the Commander was following him 'round like a lost pup? He had been able to do nothing but laugh. He knows she took him for a fool, given the fact that he used to be Dalish, but yeah right! It wasn't until she took him by the wrist and dragged him out of the tavern to where the courtyard had been turned into a training ring that he learned the truth.

* * *

"Now, just plant your elfy arse right there, biscuit breath. And watch carefully." Banalhan yelps in surprise when he's yeeted into a position next to Sara as they watch the training soldiers. It takes only a quick peek for him to see the Commander leaning on the fencing of the training area. Of course, it's impossible to miss that distinctive voice of his calling out to the soldiers, correcting their stances and moves. Since he heard him sing, Banalhan is pretty sure he could pick him out of any crowd. 

As they stand there, the soldiers are called to a halt, and instructed to change out. They share a look between them before running from the ring to flank the Commander. They struggle to subtely sign something, but all of their hard work is immediately destroyed when the Commander not so subtly turns around and scans the crowd. When he sees Banalhan and Sara standing together, his brows furrow in instant concern. After all, the most anti-elf member of the Inquisition is currently standing next to the elf he has been following. (Stalking) 

Said elf can feel his cheeks filling with heat the longer the Commander stares at them. Which lasts until the next few soldiers manage to get into the fence and the sound of swords and shields clashing forces the man to turn around and pay attention to his job. (Not his elf.) Sara has begun to snicker softly next to him, knocking his shoulder violently with hers. Which sends him reeling forward a little. As if he has a sixth sense or something, the Commander cuts his gaze to the two of them, scowling pointedly at Sara who just snickers louder. 

"Seriously stuck on you, is our stick-in-the-mud jackboot." The Commander slowly turns back to the fence, jaw clenched. Huh. Banalhan finds that he's having a little trouble breathing. And processing. Was the Commander really -that- worried about him? Well, it -is- a part of his job, the safety of their people, so of course he would be worried. But to this point? 

"Uh ..." Elequant as ever, Banalhan! He clears his throat awkwardly when Sara's snickering seems to momentarily drown everything else out. And then she shoulders him again. This time, he reels forward so far that he actually crashes into three other spectators, who immediately grouse and groan at him.

Oh. Well, it seems that grumbling is all that's needed to snap the Commander's control. Because in the very next moment, he has pushed through the crowd and is righting Banalhan even as he glares daggers at Sara.

"Sara. Don't you have somewhere to be? Away from .. here." Banalhan cants his head, blinking rapidly. It did not sound as if that is how the Commander was originally going to end the sentence, but he's still stuck on the fact that Cullen hasn't -let him go yet-! The Commander's hands are still wrapped gently about his arm and shoulder as he glares at Sara. 

"Oh? And where would that be, Commander fancy-hair? Far away from a certain ... mage?" Sara manages to waggle her brows in a way that is both clownish and ... lewd, somehow. It makes his stomach swoop and dive even as he wants to turn and run away. Again. 

"Yes. Far. Away." the Commander bites each word out as if a separate sentence, and Banalhan is really starting to feel a little lightheaded here. And since the soldier isn't squeezing or anything, it is sheer confusion of the situation causing it. Good to know. 

"Right, right, wouldn't want a certain mage to know too much, eh? I'm going now. Never say I didn't do nothin' for you, elfy." Sara pulls off this odd sloppy salute and then dashes through the crowd giggling like a crazy person as she heads back into the tavern. Given the fact that Sara ambushed him there, Iron Bull shamelessly hits on him there, and Varric has made it his life's mission to try and get him completely pissed in there, it might be a good idea to avoid the Herald's Rest for all that he's worth in the future.

And oh, look! The Commander -still- hasn't let go!

"Are you alright, Banalhan?" The use of his name from the Commander sends him further spiraling into shock. So much so that he jerks a little, eyes wide as he looks up at the older human. "Oh. Did .. did I not say that right? Or .. you're not injured, are you?" The last words are so softly desperate, that the mage half expects the Commander to begin patting him down for any sneaky ninja wounds that could've been inflicted under his apparently -very- watchful eye. He might have to buy Sara some new arrows for bringing all of this to his attention. 

"What? No! I mean .. yes. I mean ... it's pronounced right and I'm not hurt, I swear. She just pushed me a little." Cullen's lips peel back momentarily and he might not have to buy Sara anything because if Cullen gets his hands on her right now, she might not survive. So, Banalhan reaches out blindly and grabs the Commander by his feathered paldron, keeping him in place before he does something he will probably (maybe) regret later. "Commander, p-please. I am truly alright." This reassurance seems to work. Cullen relaxes where he stands, though he still doesn't let go. Simply ... looks at the mage. "How .. do you know my name?" 

Cullen's eyes narrow again and this time, it's the Commander leading him about by the wrist. He turns and practically drags the mage after him, up the stairs and across the battlements to his quarters. He doesn't let go until the door is closed behind them and wow. Banalhan never had reason to come in here. The room ... doesn't suit the Ex-Templar, not to -his- way of thought. The Commander had proven to be a bright, shining beacon, unlike this dimly lit red and brown room that suggests a strange lack of light somehow. 

"Right. Please. Sit." The Commander rushes behind the desk that takes up the largest part of the room and motions toward a chair. Some part of the mage thinks it is somehow .... sacrilegious or disrespectful to sit in a Commander's seat. But he does. Settles into the chair even as the Commander begins to pace back and forth in front of the desk that now separates them.

"I will admit to finding myself .. effected by our first meeting. I was distracted to the point of annoyance. Every time I left here, I was looking for you. Wanting to make sure that you were safe after what happened. So, it seemed only prudent that I should learn who you are. Vivianne was no help. That woman could drive even Andraste to act rashly, I think. When she was no help, it occured to me to speak to Sister Nightingale. Who, of course, was able to give me your name. And .... and the ... meaning of it." 

Oh no ... blessed Maker ... Sweet Andraste .... the Gods preserve him, Cullen knows the meaning of his name!? Every muscle in his body tenses, his flight instinct ramped up so high that he is vibrating with it. He feels as if he should be halfway back to the Tower by now! Especially when Cullen suddenly turns and brings both clenched fists down on the desktop.

"How could parents be so cruel? To name their children something like .. like sorrow ... or Blight ..." The Commander sounds so ripped open that Banalhan aches for him. But at the same time .. he cannot allow such misinformation to exist. He reaches out on a whim, lays his shaking hands gently over the Commander's fists, and smiles sadly.

"Rest assured, Commander. My parents did not hate me so. They were the only ones in me entire clan that loved me. The Keeper himself gave me that name .. a cursed name for a cursed child. My parents were a forbidden union but wed despite it. And then, I was born under a statue of the Dread Wolf when my Mother went into labor early. Thus, I was given a cursed name. When my parents died, I was only six. The Keeper wanted to get rid of me, but felt obligated to keep me in the clan. Until my magic manifested a few days before I turned eleven. Two grown hunters were terrorizing me when I accidentally cast a mind blast on them. I was immediately knocked out and woke up in the White Spire. For the first time since my parents died, I found compassion. In the form of Knight-Captain Colleen Ciaro. She was ... more than I ever deserved. The last time I saw her, I was physically being removed from the tower by other mages and I've not seen her since they took me away from her." 

It takes several seconds for him to realize that Cullen has unfurled his fists and is now holding his hands so delicately. And he's seeing it through a thick veil of tears. 

"We can find her. The Inquisition has so many more resources now .. I'm sure Leliana or Josephine could find word of her, for you. You should not be separated from someone you care so much for." Poor Banalhan is so consumed with his tears, that he cannot read the pain written across Cullen's features as he reassures him of this. "I will submit a report to them by tonight. You have my word, Banalhan." 

Why? Why does this keep happening? Why do these -shemlen- Templars keep taking care of him? Is this Andraste's blessing for all that he's gone through? Or the Ancestors reaching back through the Fade and Veil to give him some bit of happiness in exchange for all that their people made him suffer??

"C-Commander ... I thank you. With all o-of my heart." He tugs his hands free of the humans and wildly throws his arms around the Commander's shoulders in a desperate, trembled hug. He still can't manage to shake his tears!

"Please .. call me Cullen. And I hope we are able to find her for you." This is not a platitude! It is not an empty promise by an Inquisition official. It is a man meaning his words with all of his heart and oh no. Banalhan is realizing something ... dangerous. His heart skips a beat even as he carefully pulls free of their shared embrace and puts a little distance between them.

"There are no words to thank you enough for this, Com-- Cullen. My gratitude will be eternal." But his need to RUN is definitely winning out! He turns suddenly, hands clasping his robes so that he can hike them up enough to rush from the Commander's chambers. "Forgive me, but Varric, Sara and Iron Bull are expecting me." How 'beautiful' that he is now using the three reasons -not- to return to that wretched tavern as a reason to run away from a truth he isn't prepared to handle yet.

* * *

Running and hiding lasts for all of three hours. Just long enough for the Terrible Trio to get him drunk .. and let his mouth get the better of him.

"Wait wait wait .. let me get this straight, my little Puzzle Piece ... you, a tragic, abused, sweet and naive little Mage ... have officially fallen for the tortured, tragic, manly-man ex-templar turned Commander of the Inquisition Forces? This is the kind of fairy-tale shit I make up for my books! HOW is this your real life??" Varric manages to slosh a little bit of his ale from his cup as he gestures almost frantically at the mind blast that poor Banalhan has just dropped. 

Sara, the ever pleasant bitch that she is, is currently snickering into her drink and he is just drunk and annoyed enough that he hopes she accidentally snorts some of the foam and burns her stuck-up nose on it. Of course ... he is not so drunk that he fails to immediately feel guilty for the thought and silently takes it back for all that he's worth. 

Iron Bull ... is sulking. That is a -very- hard emotion for the average person to discern on the massive Qunari since it looks like every other expression he tends to wear. But, he's been around him long enough to understand most of the subtle differences. He still struggles with regret, because he doesn't think he's ever actually seen that emotion from him yet. But yeah, he's totally pouting into his deadly brew. 

"Andraste's knickerweasles, did I not just -say- that, Tethras? Is your height finally effecting your hearing?" Sara honks with laughter, and Banalhan feels horrible and yet ... vindicated, when she snorts her drink and immediately begins to curse a blue streak as she wipes at her flaring nostrils. Sorry ... not sorry. 

"Now now, Kost (Peace). If we turn this into a contest of size ... everyone loses to me ... in every department, by default." When Banalhan had questioned Iron Bull about the Qunlat nickname, it had taken some time for the larger male to tell him what it means. And again, though no one else would've been able to see the embarrassment the Quanri felt at admitting it, he had seen it plainly. Apparently ... The Iron Bull had been calling him PEACE since the day they met. And not in a mean or mocking way. He eventually told him that he admired the fact that despite everything he had been through, despite everything he faces as a mage, he still sought Peace in all things. 

Definitely a more flattering nickname than Puzzle Piece, though that makes him chuckle on occasion when he's not seeing double. Or triple. (Seriously. It seems to be Varric's hope to try and get Banalhan as drunk as possible, as often as possible.)

"Screw you, Horny Horns. Ain't all about size, yeah? It's how you -handle- it." Sara manages to stop rubbing at her nose long enough to comment, before going back to muttering under her breath. 

"Oh, Sara .. I handle it all just fine. No complaints yet."

"Yes yes, you've spent every day since coming to Skyhold making your way through the staff, male and female. Kudos to you, Tiny. But if we want to know anything about that, we can literally ask -anyone- you've spoken to for details. At the moment, I'm more interested in the tragically beautiful story of the Virginal Mage and the Virginal Commander. So. Back to you, Puzzle Piece!"

"Oi! It's amazing how suddenly sober you sound, short-stuff!" Poor Banalhan actually goes cross eyed as he struggles to make sense of all the S's Sara is suddenly saying. Oops. His own brain is doing it now. Bad brain! He gulps the last of his drink down, as if that will somehow magically cure him. 

"Sara's right, Varric. And yeah, you're right too. I may have developed something awkward and sticky resembling feelings for Commander Chiseled-Jaw, rescuer of the not-damsel-but-definitely-in-distress-mage." His tongue feels far too heavy, thick and awkward as he tries to drink more drink .. only to remember that his cup is empty. Of course, the moment Iron Bull so helpfully tips the rest of his contents into it, he eagerly drinks it down.

This is a mistake. He has slung actual -FIRE- before, but never felt a burn as heavy as the one at the back of his throat.

"Holy balls of fire, Iron Bull! Are you trying to assassinate me? I'm sorry if you want the Commander or something, but murder is -not- okay! Unless it's Venatori. Or renegade Mages or Renegade Templars. Or big spiders. Damn it, anything -actually- trying to kill you first is fair game, but not the pathetic little virgin mage with an unrequited crush, m'kay?" This outburst is met by complete silence from the Terrible Trio. If not for the other patrons of the bar, one would be able to hear a mouse fart. Until all hell breaks lose. 

"Puzzle Piece, you are truly the most naive creature I've ever met .. and if you've read about Merill, that is -saying- something! I'm not sure if I want to hug you or smack you with Bianca. Only, I think that thick skull of yours would hurt my poor lady." Varric gives a put upon, world weary sigh before he waves a server over for refills. 

"Unrequited? Piss off, Elfy! Didn't I already say? Jackboot is completely gone on you! Those pointy ears should at least be good for listening!" By the Flames of Andraste, he has officially had enough of this speciesism from Sara!

"Sara! Your ears are -just as pointed as mine bitch face! This blatant hate on our -shared- species has me two seconds from turning you into a toad! And I'm almost halfway certain the Commander would back me up on that action." Considering he had looked two seconds from throwing her in a cell for pushing him .. yeah, he's pretty sure Cullen would back him up on a sudden Sara-transformation. The Inquisitor might also, actually. 

"Murder, Kost (Peace)? Trust me .. murder is the -last- thing I want to do to you. Though it would be the same level of athleticism." Banalhan blinks in confusion, his alcohol addled mind struggling to understand what The Iron Bull is sayi-- oh. **OH**. That ... wasn't even a well disguised moment of the Qunari hitting on him. That was blatant as hell! Like, wow! 

"Maker's -breath-, Iron Bull! Do you think before you speak?? Please don't answer that. I'm fraid of how much detail you might go in to. And as Tethras has so sweetly pointed out ... over and over and over ... I'm too naive for that!" He shoves his cup toward the bartender and somehow manages to upend himself. One moment, he's hoping for another drink. The next ... he's staring up at the Terrible Trio from the floor, on his back. Sara is guffawing so hard that she nearly ends up right next to him. Varric looks split down the middle between fiercely amused and utterly concerned, while the overly horny Iron Bull (Pun intended) is enjoying the sight of him sprawled out far too much.

"What in Thedas is going on here!?" Commander Cullen's voice slices through the sounds of the tavern and brings every conversation to a halt. Brings the room to utter silence apart from Sara's continued laughter and Banalhan's sudden groan. Because Cullen does -not- sound happy. In fact .. he sounds about two seconds from roaring like his nickname would imply. If the mage looks close enough, he thinks he can even see a muscle under the Commander's eye twitch with suppressed anger. Ohhh, he looks super sexy all righteously pissed off. 

Bad Banalhan! That is -precisely- what he's NOT supposed to be thinking, damn it! 

"Poor elfy-welfy fell on the floor!" Sara roars with further laughter, once again almost joining him on said floor before righting himself. "Can't believe the Blight can get so drunk!" That last sentence .. that garners a gasp of surprise from the majority of the room, a growl from the already irate Commander ... and basically instantly sobers Varric, Iron Bull, and Banalhan. The poor mage doesn't make a sound. His eyes just slip closed, his hands clenching into trembling, white knuckled fists at his sides as he tries to remember to breathe around the sudden need to cry and maybe scream. To go against all his instincts and punch Sara. 

"You are damn lucky, Sara. The Inquisitor -just- told me that I'm not allowed to lock anyone else up for a bit. But you can damn well bet I'm telling him about this. Your ridiculous little network is not worth putting up with your idiotic mouth. I doubt you'll be here much longer." With short, stuttered breaths, Banalhan manages to struggle to his feet, swaying pathetically once he's standing. Within moments of gaining his feet, he gasps in surprise as vertigo hits. Because he's suddenly swept up, into Cullen's arms, the Commander holding him protectively close as he turns and carries him from the tavern.

Well. Still not a damsel, but most definitely in distress. Again. If the Commander continues to come to his rescue so dashingly, he will never get over this oh so inconvenient crush of his. With his arms tight around Cullen's shoulders, he is able to press his blushing face roughly against the Commander's armor. Hiding himself as best he can in a room full of Agents, Soldiers, Pilgrims, Mages and Nobles that have seen him literally swept off his feet by Cullen. 

His is -never- going to live this down!

* * *

He's not sure why, but he's not that surprised when he finds himself being carried all the way up to Cullen's room, deposited in the chair he had occupied earlier. It's just as comfortable and wrong to be settled here as it had been last time. He cannot think that a mage has the right to such a seat, even if the Commander himself put him there. 

Once he's settled, he actually squeaks when he looks up and watches, wide eyed and dusky cheeked as the Commander begins to struggle to get his armor off. His throat clicks drily when he hard swallows, trying to look away, but unable to. And it's not even as if he's undressing or anything! He just removes his armor, piling it next to the desk, until he's left in pants and a padded tunic. And then he's knelt in front of Banalhan, so very tenderly patting him down. Checking for wounds, apparently. Once they are fully face to face, his hands slip back to delicately run across the back of his head, making sure he hadn't smashed it open when he fell. It would be just his luck if he had been badly injured because of drink. He sucks in a soft, surprised breath when the checking becomes a sweet, fond running of fingers through his hair. Cullen's features have also shifted from concerned to fond in a way that almost breaks the mage's heart. 

"What in the world were you thinking, Banalhan? Those three are never a good influence under the best of circumstances." Now, the elf actually -agrees- with that, but he cannot let the words slide. He swallows, struggling to wet his dry throat and smiles vaguely at the man knelt before him. 

"That may be, Cullen, but ... they're my friends. I've never had that before." He hates admitting to yet something else that is pathetic about him, but it's the truth so he speaks it. Cullen goes from looking fond to looking as if he's swallowed a whole lemon and then been smacked across the face by a rotten fish. Does he now think lesser of him because of the company he keeps!? He hopes not, though he's not about to drop his friends to be seen in a better light. 

"Oh, Banalhan .." The Commander sighs the words, reaching down to gather the mage's hands in his own. Practically staring at the way the slightly smaller hands fit into his larger ones. The elf fears he might actually pass out from the amount of heat flooding his cheeks as he glances down as well. "You have never had a fraction of what you deserve. I ..." The Commander's eyes widen and he quickly drops the elf's hands, struggling to stand from his knelt position. He puts distance between them, and Banalhan wonders what he had managed to do wrong in those few seconds. Or was the Commander repaying him for running earlier? He'd not blame him for doing so. 

"Thank you, Commander, for your help. I knew better than to go drinking tonight, but I had hoped to get some advice from my friends. It .. did not work out the way I had hoped it would." He chuckles wryly as he admits that. Things had gotten out of hand so very fast and he feels just as confused as he had before this all began.

"Something troubles you? Please, feel free to discuss it with me. I would be more than happy to lend any possible assistance." Cullen turns away from his bookshelves and moves so that he can lean against the desk that is once again between them. 

Every instinct he has managed to build up over the years tell him that this has the potential to be a bigger disaster than a failed Harrowing, and that he should NOT do this! Of course, he'd also be the first to admit that his instincts are rather jank and busted, so there's only about a 50% chance of this ending horribly. 

"I ..." The elf takes in a deep breath and carefully rearranges himself on the chair until he is sitting with his legs crossed and his hands clasping each other in his lap. From beneath his lashes, he sees Cullen's features soften into that look of utter fondness once more and it shakes him to his core. Melts his heart. He takes another deep breath and decides ... screw it! "I asked the Terrible Trio what to do about finding myself ... having feelings about someone." This is just going to be a disaster. Can he really talk -to- the Commander about having a -crush- on the Commander? 

Cullen's hopeful expression shutters instantly and he turns back toward the bookshelf. He seems so instantly shut down and disquieted, that the mage is a little surprised he didn't lunge for his armor. It is no secret the soldier is most comfortable when kitted out. Most soldiers are. 

"Oh." The word is strained, the Commander's throat sounding as dry as Banalhan's feels. "I .. I am sorry that they were not able to offer you help, Banalhan. I .. am afraid I can offer none, either. I've only had feelings for two .... well, three people, and they were never returned. I have nothing to offer." The thought of Cullen loving someone, let alone three people, and never having those feelings returned? It feels like a knife to his heart. His hand even lifts, palm pressed hard against the ragged beat of his heart. Fingers digging like talons into the material of his robes. He's not sure his poor heart can take this. But he refuses to do anything stupid ... like skirt the desk and throw himself at Cullen's feet and promise to care for him. 

He just can't be that dramatic, damn it! (He's a lying liar that lies. His time at the tavern a little bit ago shows he can be even more dramatic than -that-.) 

"Speaking of ... feelings ... I spoke to our Lady Ambassador and Sister Nightingale. I submitted them each a report on your Knight-Captain. They both promised to look into her whereabouts as soon as possible. The moment they have information, they will pass it onto me and you shall know where your lady is." Banalhan's first reaction is that of ecstasy! The thought of finding Knight-Captain Colleen ... of knowing once and for all what her fate was once they were pulled apart .. it leaves him feeling so very -hopeful-!

His second reaction? By the Dread Wolf! Did Cullen ... just suggest ... what it -sounds- like he suggested!?!

"Oh ... oh Maker, no ... Fen'Harel ma ghilana!" (The Dread Wolf guides you!) He can feel a sour taste upon his tongue as he tries to work through the thought that Cullen is apparently suffering under the misguided thought that Banalhan has -romantic feelings- for Colleen. That is just gross. "Maraas imekari .." (A child bleating without meaning.) He groans the Qunlat and carefully stands from his seat. He is not completely sober, but he no longer feels dizzy and unstable. Just ever so slightly lightheaded. 

Cullen has turned to face him, puzzlement evident on his handsome, scarred features. 

"I .. I'm sorry. I don't understand half of what you just said .." He looks truly chagrined for not understanding, and Banalhan desperately wants to kiss him for being so damn adorable. Instead, he crosses to him. Carefully takes one bare hand into his own and marvels at the obvious strength there. Traces his fingers reverently over scare tissue and callous. The hand of a true warrior, a hero.

"Oh. Uhm ... the first is ... Dread Wolf guides you .. it means you have been misled, misguided on something. The second is ... Qunlat. I learned it in the White Spire. I am not fluent in the language, but I know enough to trip Iron Bull up. It's become one of my favorite games with him. It means ... roughly .... a child bleating without meaning. Their language is not always as literal as the common tongue, though. Basically, it means that you are speaking without knowing. Not an insult in this case, just a statement of fact. Because I do believe you are laboring under a terrible misconception, Cullen." 

At first, he's not sure the Commander has heard him, because there is no answer, no acknowledgment from the older man. Instead, he is stuck staring at where his hand is being caressed. The Commander swallows heavily and is wearing an open, raw ... vulnerable expression. He looks torn between happiness and indescribable pain. 

Banalhan cannot stand the thought that his words are hurting the other man. Though, he doesn't think that's it. He thinks the Commander -still- isn't understanding.

"I love Colleen with all that I am, Cullen." When those words register, the Commander takes a step back and begins to pathetically, weakly try and tug his hand away, but Banalhan will -not- let him go. Instead, he lifts the hand. Presses a trembled, embarrassed kiss to a little scar on the man's knuckle, causing the Commander to gasp in confused surprise. His cheeks are high with an apple blossom blush and seriously, this man was crafted specifically to torture and drive him insane, wasn't he!? He allows his lips to trail across his knuckles, breathing little butterfly kisses there, wondering where the hell he got the guts to do this. Because he is -not- the bold type. He has never been taught how to be. 

Maybe the Terrible Trio have helped him more than he thinks they did.

"Knight-Captain Colleen is the second best -MOTHER- I have ever had. She was not blessed with children before joining the Order and I had no family when I was brought to the Tower. I want to find her ... I pray every night, beg the Maker that she is out there somewhere, safe. And I do -love- her, Cullen ... but it would be akin to -incest- for me to be -in- love with her." He continues to brush those soft, little kisses across the held hand, giving the words time to sink in. 

He knows instantly the moment that Cullen understands. Because his breath is released in a growl and his hand is pulled away. The next thing Banalhan knows, his arse has connected with the edge of the desk and Cullen has him held by the cheeks.

"Thank the bloody Maker." The Commander snarls the words moments before sealing his lips over the mage's in a hard, claiming kiss. It should frighten him, that his first kiss is so possessive and intense, but it doesn't. Really, REALLY doesn't. It sends heat rushing through him as his hands scrabble to get a hold of Cullen's padded tunic, clinging for dear life as he returns the kiss. "I thought ... I thought you were in love with her. It would not stop me from trying to find her for you, but .. Banalhan..." The Commander practically whimpers his name against his lips and the elf hasn't the first clue what comes over him. Because he suddenly slides his legs around Cullen's hips and draws him in closer. 

"I'm yours, Cullen." It's a promise, and he means it with all that he is. He has never had reason to think that anyone would ever want him in any positive way. And life in Thedas? Even before the Darkspawn Magister showed up and tore a hole in the sky, it was dangerous and unpredictable. The People of Thedas have a habit of grabbing onto whatever makes them happy and never letting go. That is exactly what he plans to do.

"And I am yours." The next kiss is no less intense, no less possessive or claiming, and it leaves the elf feeling lightheaded. Giddy with a type of happiness he has never been lucky enough to experience before. "... but I am still having Sara sent away." The words take him by surprise. He throws his head back and howls with laughter. As angry as the woman made him earlier, he's pretty sure it will take very little persuasion to make Cullen change his mind. Banalhan is rather looking forward to it.

**Fin**


End file.
